


Inertia

by Xyriath



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Breeding, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Forced Marriage, Intersex Omegas, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Shiro (Voltron), Rutting, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 17:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16623419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: Married off to a rich alpha to save his family's dwindling fortunes, Shiro knows he'll never be happy. Not as the good little breeder his husband expects him to be.To escape, Shiro knows he has to take a risk, one so big that he'll lose nearly everything, whether he succeeds or fails.But there's one person that could make it all worth it.





	Inertia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OracleStella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OracleStella/gifts).



> Written for Space Angel on Discord. Thank you so much for your support!

The table, long and elegantly carved from mahogany, looked as if it were at least five times the age of either of its inhabitants, an exquisite antique that must have been worth six months’ salary of the servants that undoubtedly kept it cleaned and polished.  The rest of the room followed its example in décor: priceless paintings on the wall, breathtaking sculptures hovering at aesthetic points in the room, an elegant coat of arms mounted above the mesmerizing holographic flames dancing within the fireplace.

Grand as the room was, however, the only thing that occupied Shiro’s attention was the overwhelming chill emanating directly from the room’s other occupant.

But Shiro only took another delicate bite of halibut, the tender fish flaking perfectly between his teeth.

“Did you enjoy your day?” he asked mildly, cutting off another piece.  “I saw you on the news earlier. There’s such a big fuss about the contract you’ve all arranged.  It seems like it ended favorably for you.”

“Then I suppose you already know everything worth knowing about it,” Sendak replied, a dismissive growl in his voice.  “That you could understand, anyway.”

Shiro didn’t react externally to the insult, keeping a pleasant, well-bred smile on his face.

“It’s fortunate the weather held.  I can only imagine how that might have affected the mood of negotiations.  It’s so strange, how it can be so sunny most of the day and suddenly decide to pour in time for dinner.  Still, they said we’d get rain all day… Don’t you think it’s strange, that for all the amazing things we can do, we still can’t predict the weather?”

Sendak stared at him incredulously for several moments.  Shiro pretended that he didn’t see the slight curl of disgust on Sendak’s upper lip, instead sipping at his wine.

“It’s very good,” Shiro murmured, taking another bite of the halibut.  “Our chefs are so good with seafood. It’s such a waste that we don’t have them cook it more often.”

A snort from the other end of the long table, but no verbal response.  Instead, Sendak thrust his dish away, half-eaten, and stood.

He stalked over towards the door—and towards Shiro.  Shiro did his best to feign nonchalance, continuing to enjoy his fish, continuing to sip at his wine, acting as if he expected Sendak to pass right on by.

For just the briefest of relieved moments, Shiro thought that he would.

But right as he had begun to relax, the footsteps stopped.

A large, clawed hand, nearly as big as Shiro’s hand, darted out, snagging his chin and turning it forcibly in Sendak’s direction.

“I’m retiring for the evening.  You will join me.”

Shiro swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, but he showed no external indication of his nerves, lifting his eyes to meet Sendak’s defiantly.

“I will not.”  He kept his tone low and calm, rational and confident, gaze unblinking as gray eyes met yellow.

The grip on Shiro’s chin tightened, and Shiro prayed that Sendak couldn’t feel his pulse skyrocket.

“I am your husband.  I don’t know what ill manners your family has let fester in that empty head of yours, but it is time that you acknowledged your place.”

“My place,” Shiro continued mildly, ignoring the cramp beginning to arc through the back of his neck, “is in the library.  I received a new shipment of books today, and I’ll need to organize them.”

“An omega’s  _ place _ ,” Sendak spat, forcing Shiro’s chin up still higher, “is on his back or on his knees.  An omega’s  _ place _ is at my feet, filled with my whelps.  And you  _ will _ learn that, sooner or later.”

A claw unsheathed from one of Sendak’s fingers, digging into Shiro’s windpipe, and for one unexpectedly terrifying moment, Shiro thought that he’d finally pushed too far, that Sendak would lose his patience, wrench him out of his seat and drag him upstairs and throw him down on the bed and finally take what he considered his.

But after several tense, uncertain moments, Sendak finally withdrew his hand and stepped away, just as he had every night of their two months of marriage.

“For your sake and for your sanity, I hope it is sooner.”

With a snarl, Sendak whirled on his heel, storming for the door.

As it slammed behind him, Shiro took several steadying breaths, then returned to his dinner, jaw tight and set.  When he turned his attention back to his wine glass, he saw that the bowl had cracked in his hand.

A thin stream of bright red blood trailed down his palm and to his wrist, compressed against the clear glass.

Shiro watched it for a long, long time.

—

Shiro paced back and forth within his room, face drawn in a solemn expression.

He was running out of time.

It had been akin to an act of god to push Shiro into this union—force, really, because there had to be no one in the world that he loathed more than Sendak.  But his family had absolutely leaped at the opportunity, blinded by his offers of a bride price, of the coffers that would be available upon a union of their lineages.  Not that Sendak had much of one to speak of—the instrument of his own fortune, the true noble families looked upon him with subtle scorn. They had no place in society for a self-made man.

Which had been where Shiro’s family came in.

Impoverished from the gambling debts and excess of their previous patriarch, the Shirogane family had nothing but their name—and an omega son who had caught Sendak’s eye.  Enticed by the prospect of regaining a fortune, with Sendak the same at the prospect of gaining a legitimate claim to planetary nobility, the Shirogane family had accepted his offer of marriage to Shiro without so much as telling Shiro about it beforehand—and despite Shiro’s extensive protests, had refused to hear any argument.

The law had been on their side.  And so, less than a month after the proposal, Shiro and Sendak had been wed.

It had, at least, provided Shiro with more legal rights: a married omega was no longer beholden to their family, but not to their husbands.  Enough to make Sendak exceedingly wary of forcing Shiro into his bed—but unfortunately, not with enough legal rights to initiate a divorce.

And it had made his life a special kind of hell.

His eyes landed on the manacles, one in each corner of the bed.  If Shiro wouldn’t have him during a heat, Sendak had declared that he wouldn’t be allowed anything at all.  Not until he begged for it. Not until he submitted.

Shiro had resisted for two months.  But his third was coming up, within a day or two at most, and while he was certain of his own willpower, he had less faith in Sendak’s.

But he wasn’t about to give up.  Not yet. A plan had begun to form, with many uncertainties, but a plan nonetheless.

The doorknob turned, and Shiro whirled to face the man he knew would walk through the door.

Shiro lifted his chin as he received his husband, who looked him over disdainfully as he stepped in without permission.

“Doing nothing useful, as usual.”  Sendak glanced around the room with clear disinterest.  “It’s a wonder you’re not up here stuffing yourself full of food.”

“Did you come here for a reason?” Shiro asked coolly, keeping a level head even as, internally, her frantically wondered if Sendak had realized that Shiro’s heat was nearly upon them.  “If it’s to make another proposition, I’ll tell you the same as I did last night—”

“I've been called away.”  Sendak didn't let Shiro finish, instead replying with a sharp dismissal. “If I'm to finalize these negotiations, my presence will be required off-planet.”

“A tragedy.”  Shiro shrugged with just as much dismissal.  “Whatever will I do without you to entertain me?”

“I'll thank you to remember,” Sendak said in a low, clipped voice, “that this sort of thing is what keeps you with clothes on your back and expensive food in your mouth.  Without my money, you'd be on the streets in a heartbeat.”

Shiro, so close to being free of Sendak for days, at least, refrained from mentioning that he'd rather be on the street than in Sendak's bed.

“You are not to leave the house while I'm gone.  The servants will fetch anything that you need. If I find out you've disobeyed me, you'll regret it.”

Shiro managed a resentful glare.  If he appeared too unconcerned, Sendak would pick up on the fact that he intended to disobey the moment the opportunity became available.  

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.  But  _ don’t _ get any ideas.”

“I was under the impression that I wasn’t smart enough to have any of those.”

Sendak scoffed, turning to go.  “At least you have the awareness to admit it.”  Without another word, he stepped out through the door.

Shiro watched him leave, mind whirling as he processed this new information.

He had a window here, one to enact the plan that he’d been turning over and over in his mind.  Was it stupid? Certainly. Foolish, risky, and, regardless of the outcome, he’d likely be the objectively worse for it.

But he’d be free of Sendak.

No court in the galaxy would grant him a divorce, not without some form of gross negligence on Sendak’s end, and certainly not with the influence Shiro’s family had over the courts.  But there were plenty of ways for Sendak to seek an end to the marriage, and some that no judge in the universe would deny.

So Shiro had resigned himself to one fact: the only way out of this union would be through disgrace.

—

He knew the estate well, too well to ever worry about being caught.  He had grown up here, after all, causing trouble as a child, playing games, never imagining that he could be consigned to an existence that would horrify him beyond comprehension.

Now that the Shirogane family had access to the extensive fortune of Sendak, they had begun the task of sprucing up the old mansion.  The crumbling bricks had all vanished, the wrought iron gates cleaned of their oxidization. The garden and yard, once overgrown, were clearly being wrestled under control.  It might take months, perhaps even years, but the Shirogane estate would return to its former glory once again.

All they’d needed to do was sell their oldest son to a tyrant.  No loss. Only an omega, after all.

But Shiro had refused to set foot inside ever again.  He slipped past the once-grand doors, the servant’s access, the secret entrances he knew lay buried within the overgrown hedge maze or behind a decrepit fountain.  He wasn’t here for his family.

The cabin stood out of the way, comparatively well-kept.  With a salary like the groundskeeper had received, like his father had received, the cabin's owner couldn’t keep the lands maintained, but he’d made sure that his own dwelling was presentable.

Shiro slipped his way through the trees, stepped up to the door, and knocked.

A thud, a curse, and Shiro’s heart somersaulted.  He was  _ mad _ , coming here, risking everything—even the few things he actually wanted to keep.

Breathtakingly selfish, too.  But he’d spent all of his life being selfless for others; he wouldn’t let it destroy him.

Before Shiro could turn tail and run, the door swung open.

Which of the two were more surprised, Shiro couldn’t say: certainly, after such a public falling-out, after the  _ incident _ at the wedding, no one in the household would have ever expected to see Shiro again.  But the sight in front of him…

Biceps, not near the size of Shiro’s, but firm and impressive nonetheless, underneath a sleeveless ribbed tank.  Black hair, longer and messier than Shiro remembered, begging to have fingers run through it. Violet eyes, no less able to stare straight through him than the day they’d met.

It had been two months since he’d left, and longer still since he’d seen Keith.  But had it really been possible for someone to change so much in such a short amount of time?

Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed, the slow growth of a childhood friend, attractive but in a soft way, to a man, solemn and devastatingly handsome.

He swallowed, mouth dry.

“Shiro?” Keith croaked, managing to be the first to speak, stepping forward and reaching out to touch him, then pulling back at the last moment.  “What—am I dreaming?”

Shiro laughed breathlessly, flushing at the idea that Keith might dream of him.  “No. I… I missed you. And Sendak is gone, so…”

Keith’s eyes widened, and he stepped back into the small house, gesturing for Shiro to follow.  “You mean, he’s  _ dead? _ ”

Shiro followed, letting out a bitter laugh.  “No. God, no. I wish.” He ignored the small choking noise from Keith at his candor, then drew back the hood of his cloak.

Quiet settled between them for a few moments as they took each other in.  Shiro enjoyed the opportunity to examine Keith’s sharp, delicate features at his leisure, while Keith seemed to be devouring the sight of Shiro, back, unharmed, here in front of him, like a starving man.

“Hello, Keith,” Shiro murmured, stepping forward, expression softening.  “It’s good to be back.”

Keith opened his mouth, and Shiro could see the expression shift on his face as he caught the scent, faint but present, growing every minute.

“I-it’s good to—”  Keith swallowed, too, and Shiro couldn’t stop the small thrill at the sight of the effect he had on Keith.  “What do you mean, gone?”

He gestured at the small living room, then offered his hands, and Shiro pulled off the cloak and passed it over.  Keith swallowed again at the scent undoubtedly drifting through the room, but he turned to hang it up as Shiro settled on the worn couch.  Keith followed, hesitated, then chose a chair instead.

“Business trip,” Shiro sighed, bending down to unlace his boots.  A bit forward, perhaps, but he knew that it would give Keith a good sight of him, too.  “He told me not to leave the house, so of course I defied him the moment I was able.”

Keith let out a soft huff of laughter, looking away.  “Wouldn’t have expected anything less. Good on you.” He risked a brief glance over at Shiro, who had now curled up on the couch.  “You’re… you’re not happy with him.”

“God, no.”  Shiro’s face twisted, and he had to look away as well.  “He’s everything I can’t stand, all wrapped up into one abhorrent husband.  I want free of him, Keith.”

“Has…”

But Keith seemed to think better of the question, wrapping his arms around himself instead.

“Has what, Keith?” Shiro asked gently, suspecting he knew the question on the tip of his tongue.

Keith took a breath, looking as if he were warring with himself, then met Shiro’s eyes.

“Has he hurt you?”

Shiro exhaled at the quiet words; how much Keith must have been tearing himself over this, worrying for Shiro, conjuring images of violent abuse or rape at the hands of a cruel husband.

“No,” Shiro assured him gently.  “He’s not that stupid. I’ve told him…”  Shiro hesitated, then lifted his chin. “I’ve told him he’s not welcome in my bed, and that he never will be.  I didn’t want this match, and if I have to suffer through it, so does he.”

Shiro watched Keith relax, slowly, a barely-noticeable tension in his shoulders releasing as they dropped.  Then he took a deep breath, steeled himself, and met Shiro’s eyes.

“Shiro,” he asked quietly, with feeling, “are you here to ask me to break you out of there?”

The words hit their mark, burrowing straight down into the core of Shiro’s heart and leaving him, for a moment, too choked up to speak.

But he doesn’t show it, and he instead takes a deep breath.

“You know that would never work,” Shiro said quietly.  “Even if we got off-planet—hard enough in the best of circumstances—Sendak has enough money and influence that he would find us before we got to the outer rim.  You’d be charged with kidnapping, and me…” Shiro shook his head. “I’m touched that you would offer, but Sendak needs to decide to end this himself.”

Keith’s shoulders slumped.  “So there’s nothing I can do.”

Shiro remained quiet for several more moments before speaking.

“I didn’t say that.”

Keith looked up, eyes wide, as Shiro rose, then stepped over to kneel in front of him.  The heat was almost upon him, now, and from the way Keith turned from him, Shiro knew that he could smell it.

“There is one way.”

Almost imperceptibly, Keith’s eyes widened, and Shiro knew that he’d realized.

“Sh-shiro, I…”

“It’s the best way, Keith,” Shiro murmured, reaching out to take his hand.  “The only way. If Sendak finds out I’m pregnant—”

“No!”  Keith stood so quickly the chair fell backwards, stumbling away from Shiro.  “No, Shiro, if I do this to you… It’ll  _ ruin _ you.  The scandal—”

Shiro stepped forward, refusing to be dissuaded, not with how Keith’s frantic eyes slid over him, not with the hunger burning behind that expression.  “I don’t care, Keith. I’d give up everything to be free of him. This is the most certain way.”

When he reached out to put his hand on Keith’s shoulder, he could feel it trembling, just slightly, under his fingers.

“Shiro,” he breathed, licking his lips, unable to meet his eyes.  “You… you’re… you need some suppressants, or scent blocker—”

“No, I don’t.”  Shiro stepped even closer, their chests nearly touching now, and Shiro could tell how much his scent was affecting Keith—because even as Shiro’s scent grew, so was that of eager, almost desperate alpha.  He’d brought along his trump card, and now was his time to play it.

“Don’t you understand, Keith?” Shiro breathed, their mouths only now inches apart.  “I want to be ruined. And I want  _ you _ to ruin me.”

With a growl, Keith surged forward, the uncertain scent now one of determination, breaking over Shiro like a wave.

The scent of an alpha triggered into a rut.

Keith lunged forward, hands gripping Shiro’s shoulders, and then they were falling, falling, seemingly weightless, the world around them vanished as violet eyes locked onto Shiro’s.

Reality closed back around them in a snap as Shiro’s back hit the couch, Keith’s weight on top of him, and their lips met with an unexpected ferocity that made Shiro’s head spin.

Shiro’s body responded immediately; what had before been hints of a heat, threats, now a tsunami of epic proportions, a long-unattended libido now demanding satisfaction. Need crackled through him, every nerve alight with it, and he kissed Keith back with a passion he hadn't known he possessed.

All his life he'd been kept away from any situation that might “threaten” his chastity, ruin his reputation.  He and Keith had been forced to curtail much of their friendship, meet only in secret and, with the news of Shiro's upcoming nuptials, finally concede that whatever small chance of romance there might be had been snatched from them.  Now, to finally declare defiance against such draconian restrictions and allow his heart to lead him, freed the oppressive weight that had pinned it down for far too long.

A giddy laugh escaped him, mingling with a gasp, and Keith shivered just a bit before he surged forward, cutting it off with another hungry kiss.  Shiro arched forward, and their chests pressed together, a comforting warmth in the chill of the evening.

“Fuck,” Keith growled, once they broke free to breathe again.  “Shiro, fuck, I...”

“I missed you,” Shiro panted in return.  “God, I missed seeing you, talking with you, your scent...”  He shuddered as well, crying out as teeth scraped against his neck, that very scent now wafting over him, heady and thick.  Every cell in his body demanded that he succumb, give in, and he was absolutely going to.

Keith, apparently unable to reply, only groaned, grinding forward.  A terrified thrill jolted through Shiro as he felt the thick stirring of Keith’s cock against his thigh, and he gasped, kissing Keith.  At Shiro’s reaction, Keith responded by jerking forward again, this time more of a thrust than a grind.  Had clothes not been between them, Shiro had no doubt that he would have—

So, then, they needed to rid themselves of those clothes.

With a grunt, Shiro fumbled for Keith’s shirt, tugging it up and over his head. In response, Keith’s fingers found Shiro’s pants, and with a sharp yank, the button popped right off, clattering to the floor, and Shiro could only gasp at the display.

“You’re mine, now,” Keith growled, yanking off Shiro’s pants, then his shirt in much the same fashion.  A quick glance into his eyes revealed them as wild, almost crazed, desperate and fierce and everything Shiro needed.

Another kiss, and nails raked down Shiro’s chest, leaving angry red marks in their wake.  Shiro cried out, torn between pleasure and pain, fear and need; he’d known that Keith was half-Galra, yes, but he hadn’t expected…

But the noise coming from Keith’s throat silenced all thoughts of confusion or hesitation; he gasped as another wave of scent dragged him down further into his heat.  The desire burned through him, and as Keith bared Shiro completely to the room, he shuddered, closing his eyes and groaning.

“Keith…” he managed, but he wasn’t permitted to finish, not with eager hands sliding down his thighs, spreading them wide without gentleness—yanking, almost, handling Shiro like something to be devoured.

God, Shiro wanted more of it.

One of those hands released Shiro’s thigh and pressed against his abdomen instead, Keith’s eyes lifting to meet Shiro’s, hungry and expectant.

“This is what you want,” he growled, flushed and eager.  “I’m gonna give it to you, Shiro, and… and then I’m gonna fuck you again, and again, until you can’t move, and then I’m gonna fuck you some more.”

To emphasize his point, he leaned in to kiss Shiro fiercely, and it was all Shiro could do to kiss back, whining needily, all ability of speech gone as instincts took over.  He’d gone unattended through his heats for far too long; his body begged to be used, to be bred.

As if sensing Shiro’s thoughts, Keith pressed a hand down on Shiro’s abdomen, moving his mouth to Shiro’s ear and continuing.

“By the time you manage to get outta here, if I even  _ let _ you leave, you’re gonna be so full of my come, maybe even swelling with my kits…”  At Shiro’s wordless, pleading cry, he laughed roughly. “That’s what you came here for, isn’t it?”

Shiro nodded, everything hazy around him.  The thought of Keith keeping him here, for  _ months _ , even, of finally stumbling out, heavy with Keith’s child—or his litter—curled through him like something delicious.

“Please…” he whimpered, shivering helplessly, naked and exposed.  He needed to be touched, needed Keith  _ inside _ him.  Between his legs, he could feel slick coating his thighs, dripping onto the couch.

When Shiro finally did leave, there would still be something left of him.  Even if he never saw Keith again, his scent, his presence would remain, forever reminding Keith of what they had shared here.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Keith breathed, hand sliding down, over Shiro’s cock, down underneath it to his cunt, and for just a moment, Shiro thinks he’s about to get that relief, something inside him,  _ finally _ …

But no.  Despite the finger teasing tantalizingly around his entrance, it withdrew moments later.  A palm pressed up against him, and Shiro soaked it within seconds, dripping down between Keith’s fingers.  In blind desperation, Shiro ground down onto it, whimpering,  _ needing _ to be filled, but Keith refused him.

“You’ve never had anyone, have you?” Keith asked, voice ragged, and Shiro had no idea how he was managing such restraint.  Keith’s eyes burned, devouring him, and—Shiro thought that he might have spotted fangs, slightly elongated—

“No,” he breathed, shuddering.  “Never.”

“Then I’m gonna be your first.”  Keith lifted his hand, tongue darting out to lick up his palm, eyes not leaving Shiro’s the entire time.  “My cock is gonna be the first thing you take, from anyone, and it’s not gonna leave you until I’ve bred you proper.”

Shiro tilted his head back, eyes rolling back in his head, letting out a long, low groan of desperation.  He’d never wanted anything more.

“Please…” he whimpered.

Keith pulled back, yanking at his pants, kicking them off with a frantic clumsiness before spreading over Shiro, lifting Shiro’s thighs so high that they began to ache.  He gripped Shiro’s wrists, pinning his arms to the arm of the couch, a soul-devouring hunger in his eyes. Shiro hadn’t caught a glimpse of the thick length between Keith’s legs, but as it pressed up against his thigh, bigger than he could have even hoped, he got a pretty good idea.

Keith barely gave him time to take another breath before he thrust home.

Shiro cried out again, gasping, as the thick cock filled him, stretching him open, so much as to make it border on painful.  Shiro’s nails dug into Keith’s shoulders, making incoherent choking noises. Keith continued pushing forward and forward and it didn’t seem to  _ stop— _

Shiro let out a final scream as Keith bottomed out, their hips finally flush against each other, then stopped.  Their ragged breaths mingled, and Shiro could feel Keith trembling between his thighs, as if trying to restrain himself, allow Shiro the chance to grow used to the massive length inside him—

But it lasted only moments.  Shiro felt the growl beginning in the depths of Keith’s chest, the rumble shaking through the both of him, and he had only the moment’s warning of the oppressive scent of an alpha, unwilling to wait any longer, before Keith began a rough, almost punishing pace, fucking into Shiro with a ferocity that he wasn’t sure his body could handle, even in the throes of his heat as he was.  His teeth clicked together as Keith drove into Shiro’s cunt, over and over and over, wringing him raw, sending him spiraling into a vortex of pleasure.

“You’re  _ mine _ , Shiro,” Keith panted raggedly, voice breaking, and beyond the haze of desire, of need between them, Shiro could see the pain that shone behind him, hear the agony that lingered in his voice.  Separated, for far too long, two almost-lovers with their chances torn away, now rejoined, filthy and hurried and carnal as it was. “Fuck, you’re mine now, not his, never his. Never again.”

Shiro let out a desperate sob, unable to form speech, leaning in to kiss Keith with a desperation he’d been restraining for—for far too long.  Their mouths met, Shiro’s legs wrapping around Keith’s waist, urging him deeper, harder, whining, licking into his mouth—

“Gonna fill you up until you can’t walk,” Keith swore after breaking free, then leaned in to kiss Shiro again before resuming his promises.  “You were made for it, to take it like this, and you’re gonna  _ know _ who you belong to.”

At those words, Shiro finally managed some of his own, burying his fingers in Keith’s hair, drawing his head up to meet Shiro’s deadly serious eyes.

“I… I already do,” he gasped, but neither of them could keep their mouths from each other’s longer than that.

They continued to rock together in a forceful, feral rhythm, Keith taking Shiro deeper than he could almost stand, Shiro giving him everything he could and more.  Neither of them knew what lay for them in the future, and as they drove each other higher into ecstasy, neither of them cared.

Shiro felt something grow within him, a thickness that grew even harder to take, and he gasped into Keith’s mouth as it threatened to send him spiraling into mindlessness.  But Keith didn’t let up despite the growing swell, fucking Shiro, each thrust, each movement, pressing harder and harder up against that perfect spot within him—

A sharp cry, and Shiro didn’t know who it belonged to, because the bliss had claimed him, crashing over him like an ocean’s wave, dragging him under and leaving him to drown in the wake of the orgasm.

Keith filled him completely, now, so large that he was unable to move, and warmth flooded Shiro’s abdomen as Keith groaned, gasped, panted, spilled into Shiro and filled him to near-bursting.   _ Keith’s seed _ , Shiro thought, distantly, in the back of his mind.   _ He’s breeding me.  This… this is it. This is what I wanted.  What I needed. _

“Shiro,” came the shaky voice in his ear, and Keith seemed to suddenly go limp, sagging, his weight pressing onto Shiro’s.

Still drifting in the aftermath of pleasure, Shiro lifted his arms, running his hands down Keith’s back.

“I’m here,” he murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

And they lay there, wrapped around each other, reveling in the scents of each other, in the knowledge that finally,  _ finally _ , they had each other.

Shiro didn’t know how long this would last.  Keith could grow tired of him next week, decide that the ire of a man like Sendak wasn’t worth his trouble, wasn’t worth Shiro, and Shiro wouldn’t blame him.

But he would hold onto this forever.  Even if he never saw Keith again after this heat, he would have his child.  And that would be enough.

Keith grunted above him, and it took a moment for Shiro to realize that the knot had subsided enough for him to pull out.  He gasped as Keith did, the strange sensation of Keith’s release spilling out of him leaving his head spinning.

“We should move to the bed.”

Shiro’s gaze lifted to Keith’s face, to the purple eyes burning into him, and a quick flick down to the space between them showed that Keith was about ready to go again.  Already.

Shiro swallowed.  There was… a lot he hadn’t considered, pushing Keith into a rut like this, but…”

“Or,” Keith continued, voice lowering, “we can just stay here.”

With a quick movement, he gripped Shiro’s hips, flipping him around until his face pressed into the couch pillow.  With a sense of growing eagerness, Shiro’s eyes widened as he felt the thick cock pressing, once again, up against his thigh.

Shivering with excitement, he reached out to grip the arm of the couch.

—

**Two Weeks Later**

Shiro smiled to himself, using the fork to pull the mussel out of its shell, heart light even at the dark glare of his husband sitting across from him.

Nothing could drag him down, not even his nerves, which threatened his happiness, even as he buzzed with excitement.  Not after what Keith had promised him, two days earlier.

_ A guy _ , was all he’d said, refusing to give a name, but he’d sworn that with this help, they’d be off-planet, free of Sendak and his family forever.  Highly illegal, most likely, but Shiro hadn’t asked.

All that left was to have the marriage annulled.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sendak finally snapped, unable to stand the apparent imperviousness to his insults any longer, infuriated that Shiro could hum happily even as he was supposed to be miserable.

Shiro paused, considering, the nerves threatening to well up within him once again.  But instead, he set down the fork, wiped his hands on the napkin, then folded them within his lap.  He looked up at Sendak, arranging his features in a mild smile. Shiro took a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant.”


End file.
